Fishing

Last Thursday was a rather solemn day, but I knew it had to happen at some point. Like reading a popular best seller, the page had to be turned. And there was no going back. I removed my gear, tackle, and electronics from my boat. It was the final chapter and the book has been closed.

The weather windows for fishing are getting narrower by the week. The winds have been howling and the frequent bursts of cold air have dissuaded even the hardiest of anglers and captains from venturing on the high seas of late. No doubt about it, it has been a blustery fall season by any standard.

When it comes to fishing, I’ve always been a believer in beginner’s luck. But only up to a certain point.

The Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission has drafted possible regulations in response to a 2018 assessment that striped bass are overfished.

It was quiet. Almost too quiet. A recent late afternoon stroll through my local boatyard brought to me the realization that the boating and fishing season for many has come to an end. Watercraft that once gleamed in the summer sunshine with a fresh coat of wax, were now entombed in nondescript, heavy-gauge white plastic. They have been put to rest.

The season for harvesting scallops in state waters commences at sunrise on Nov. 4. If you are a bit curious, sunrise will commence at 6:23 a.m.

Gold is alluring to just about anyone and will always be categorized as a very precious metal, valued at its market price on the commodities trading floor. Gold is golden. It’s a given. 

When it comes to the weather, I sometimes think that the Nobel Laureate Bob Dylan summed it up just right: “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.” It is famously featured in his song “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” While Dylan does not hold a degree in meteorology, it’s kind of hard to argue with the meaning of those simple lyrics he penned over 50 years ago.

Fishing is sometimes a gamble. Some days you are the hero, and the next outing you can be found sulking and wondering where the fish went. There are never any guarantees when you drop a baited hook and line. Fish markets make their livelihood this way.

For those entering a tournament, whether it be for a tiny flounder or a giant bluefin tuna nearing 1,000 pounds, the competition can be intense no matter the quarry at hand. And with that, a number of tournaments adorn the upcoming calendar for those seeking not only a tasty dinner, but a little extra cash in the pocket.

From a fishing perspective, it was as quiet a season as I could ever recall.